


Heroes Always Suffer the Most

by avienexjel



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: (later on), Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Clint Barton Is a Good Bro, Clint is a dick at first, Depression, Heavy Angst, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Hurt Tony Stark, Multi, Self-Harm, Steve just feels guilty, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Wanda is a dick at first too, and confused
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-08-09 05:44:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7788952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avienexjel/pseuds/avienexjel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony's still struggling with himself in the aftermath of the Civil War.  He's spiraling down a dark path when T'Challa asks him to build Bucky Barnes a new arm.  However, while in Wakanda, he makes sure to keep out of sight of his former teammates because he knows he's no longer welcome in their presence.  The only people who know he's there are T'Challa, of course, and Barnes himself.  But how long can he hide before someone slips up?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. ONE

**Author's Note:**

> I suck both at writing and continuing my stories, so I hope you like

**one**

 

 

It's only been two months since the Civil War, and to the public, everything is close to perfect.  General Ross has been locked away for evident support of HYDRA, and the outrage over both Captain America and Iron Man has finally died down a bit.  Steve Rogers has not been seen since he fled to Wakanda with his group of Avengers, and Tony Stark is how he's always been--fine.  Or...well, to be honest, he's not so fine after all.  Even for Tony, the "Invincible" Iron Man, he is still only human.  And the weight of everything he's gone through since birth is slowly crushing his shoulders.

_I should never have been born._

That's what Howard used to tell him, when he was a child.  On the few days his father even bothered to talk to him, the only words that came out were about his uselessness, his worthlessness, how he would never be like Captain America.  Maybe Howard wasn't beating him, or raping him, but neglect and verbal abuse hurt just as much.  And now, Tony thinks as he runs a hand over his face with motor oil staining his palms, he realizes that dear old Howard had been right all along.  What had Tony Stark ever done but ruin?

Even as a boy, he was already a monster.  That was probably why Maria was sometimes detached.  Usually loving and caring, but some days there was something just _off_ in her eyes.  Maybe if Tony hadn't been hers, if someone else had been her son, she would have been every bit the happy woman she portrayed herself as in public.  And then, of course, there was his role as the Merchant of Death.  Effective immediately after Afghanistan, he had shut down his weapons manufacturing, but that would never wipe away all the blood on his hands, would never bring back the millions Tony's weapons had killed.  

_I'm a monster._

When Pepper engraved the words  _"Proof that Tony Stark has a heart"_ on his first arc reactor, he had buried his tears somewhere deep inside of him.  He had laughed, keeping that light facade, but underneath he had really wanted to let go.  Did he have a heart?  Debatable.  The only thing those words had done was remind him of all the things he had done wrong in his life.  Tony had tried to make himself better, he really had.  He'd built Iron Man into something more.  He'd made himself a  _hero_ \--at least to the public.  The engineer knew he was anything but.  And then Ultron had to happen, where once again all Tony had wanted to do was something right.  But he was born with the roots of monstrosity, and Ultron ended up killing millions more.  Blood, blood, more blood.  Tony would be surprised if he didn't go to Hell (if Hell was real).  At first it was just a few drops of blood on his palms, and now he was drowning in red.  And, oh yeah, don't forget JARVIS.  One of the only friends Tony has ever had died because of  _him._

Tony sucks in a breath as he accidentally burns his wrist on the welding iron.  He moves to grab a cloth to run under the sink, but then stops.  Bites his lip.  Then slowly, deliberately, he pressed the welding iron back to his wrist and holds it there, trying not to whimper from the pain.   _You'll never be as good as Captain America._ I tried so hard, Tony wants to scream.  I've tried all my life, Howard, how good do you want me to fucking be?

"Sir, that is unadvisable," FRIDAY's voice echoes from above.  If AI's could have concern in their voices, then FRIDAY's did.  "Sir?  Sir!  Please, Sir, do not do this to yourself."  Tony snaps out of it and swears, flinging the welding iron onto his workbench.  

"Fuck, that hurt," he grits out, digging his nails into his arm.

"I suggest a cold compress," FRIDAY says.  There is something like disapproval in her voice.   _Oh great, someone else disappointed in me.  And I_ made  _her,_ Tony thinks to himself.

The Civil War, as people are beginning to call it, was the worst of all though.  To be honest, the billionaire doesn't know if what he did was the best choice.  He really  _does_ agree with the Accords--one hundred seventeen countries had vouched for laws over superheroes, and Tony stands for this completely.  But in the process...Steve turned on him, and so did Barton, and Romanov, and, and, Rhodey's paralyzed for the rest of his life, and...it's all his fucking fault.  When is it not his fault?

After a month of modifications while working with the other nations' governments, the Accords are finally set.  Tony expected to feel a burst of smugness, at being the one to come out on top, but instead he just feels hollow.  Empty.  He stood for his opinion, and in the process of doing that, lost all of his friends and even Pepper, whom he had been planning to propose to for over a year.  It's all come to shit, because that's how Tony Stark's life works, right?

"Colonel Rhodes is at the door and wishes to come in, Sir," FRIDAY says unexpectedly.  "It seems rather urgent."

"Let him in, FRI," Tony replies, waving his hand.  He stuffs his other hand in his pocket so that the burn is pressed against his side and hidden from sight.

"Hey, Tones," a tired voice says behind him.  Tony turns to see Rhodey, in the wheelchair Tony had built specially for him, the stumps of his legs covered by a blanket.

"Rhodeybear," the engineer says with a wide grin, walking over, but only he can feel the strain that having a smile on his face gives him.

The side of Rhodey's mouth curves slightly, and he reaches out to give Tony a pat on the elbow.  However, it curves back down as the retired colonel takes in the dark circles under Tony's eyes, and the gauntness of his cheekbones.  "You look like shit, Tony.  How's it been?  And tell me the truth.  I know you haven't been having the...best time."

"You should talk," Tony snorts.  "You can't even fucking walk because of me."  Rhodey opens his mouth to say something, but the engineer cuts him off to continue.  "Also, I'm fine.  To answer your question.  Perfectly dandy."

Rhodey rolls his eyes, but there's real worry etched into the lines in his face.   _When had his face become so lined?_ Tony finds himself wondering idly.  "I'm serious, Tones.  I know you aren't.  Don't lie to me.  I'm your best friend."

Tony swallows, sighs.  "Fine.  Whatever.  I feel like shit, I  _am_ shit, and everybody hates me, including my former teammates.  Happy now?"

Rhodey doesn't say anything, just wraps his fingers around Tony's uninjured wrist and pulls him down to give him a warm hug.  The billionaire tries not to think about how good it feels to feel protected, even if only for a few seconds.  After a moment, the ex-colonel lets go and Tony reluctantly stands up, jamming both hands back into his pockets.  "So.  What's the real reason you're here?"

Rhodey pauses.  "T'Challa," he says finally.  "He seemed a little uncertain, but he'd like to meet with you."

"About?" Tony presses.

"About...Bucky Barnes' arm," Rhodey says tightly.  "Apparently Rogers asked him to find someone to build a new one.  Since...you know...you blew it off."

"Why me?" Tony says, making a face.  "Couldn't he have found anyone else?"

Rhodey shrugs.  "I guess T'Challa thinks you're the best option, even with the Civil War history and..."  He stops and starts off on a new sentence.  "You don't have to do anything for that bastard, you know.  You don't have to do anything."

Tony bites his lip briefly.  "I know Barnes was being mind-controlled when he killed my mom," he says, forcing the words out of his throat.  "But I just.  Every time I see his face, I think of the Winter Soldier's fingers around her throat."

"I know," Rhodey says softly.  "I think you should go meet with T'Challa, but don't agree to anything unless you  _want to._ Got it?"  He eyes Tony steadily.  "You're in control, Tones.  Remember that."  He checks the slim band on his wrist.  "You'll have to fly out to Wakanda to see T'Challa.  He's too busy to leave right now.  I'd better go.  You probably want your privacy, and I have physical therapy."   _Stay,_ Tony pleads silently, but Rhodey doesn't hear the message the engineer's trying to telepathically make him hear.

"Bye, Tony," Rhodey says, patting Tony's hand.  Then he presses the controls on the handles of his wheelchair and rolls out.  The workshop door slides shut behind him with a quiet click.

 Tony takes a deep breath and picks up the welding iron from where it lies unattended on the ground.  Then sets it against his wrist again, relishing the pain it sends charging throughout his entire body.


	2. Kitchen Confrontations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> confrontations, just like the chapter title;)^^

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hmm comment and tell me what you think! I literally have like twenty fanfics so I keep confusing one from the other...I need like a timeline for each story or something

 

 

**two || confrontations in the kitchen**

Tony scrubs his hand across his face, and although he doesn't want to admit it, there's a fear setting deep into his bones at the thought of seeing Steve and the rest of his former teammates once again.  Not to mention Barnes.  He knows that they all eventually signed the Accords, but he doubts any of them did it willingly.  He especially wonders how the government managed to force Barton or Rogers into compliance, and decides he doesn't really want to know.  The only relief he has is that T'Challa is letting them stay in Wakanda, at least for the time being.

"...Tony.  Tony.  Tones?"

The billionaire blinks and realizes Rhodey's in front of him in his custom-Tony-made wheelchair, peering down in concern.  Tony had offered to make him prosthetic legs but Rhodey declined, saying that it would just remind him too much of what he had lost.

How long had he been trying to call Tony from his own head?  "We're here."

Tony nods and shakes himself out of his thoughts, exiting the jet smoothly and flipping his sunglasses over his eyes.  He slides a well-practiced smirk onto his face, trying to ignore the tremors in his stomach.   _Suck it up, Stark._ He spots T'Challa as soon as he reaches the top of the ramp, and shakes hands with the king easily.  "King T'Challa."  Rhodey slides in silently next to him.

"Stark.  Colonel Rhodes."  The man wastes no time on formal greetings.  "I take it you are here for Barnes' arm.  I thank you for coming."  The 'thank you' sounds a little forced.  

"Not too hard when you own a private jet."  Tony shrugs and smirks wider.  "Wakanda's a pretty place, but I'd rather not stay here any longer than I have to.  Where is he?  I can fix the arm in a day or two or make him a new one, if he wants."

Something flashes across T'Challa's face.  "You would be willing to make this man a new arm if he so wished?"

"Why not?  Easy peasy," Tony says, even though he knows what T'Challa is really saying.   _You would be willing even after as the Winter Soldier he murdered your parents?_  He spreads his hands.  "I'll need a spare room and a couple tools, but I'm sure that's already been set up."  He nods at Rhodey.  "My Rhodeybear's coming with me."

"This is not a problem.  Come along," T'Challa says, a few of the Dora Milaje trailing behind and to the sides of him as Tony follows the Wakandan king farther and farther away from the jet.

After T'Challa shows them their rooms as well as the guest kitchens, Rhodey requests to be left alone in his room until dinner.  This leaves Tony alone with the king for the first time since he stepped off the jet.  "I have a private workshop underground that you may use, as I am aware that you like to work alone."

"Mostly alone.  Barnes'll be staring me down the whole time I'm in there," Tony says bluntly.  "Don't worry about little ol' me, I love Barnes."

For the first time, there's raw pain on T'Challa's face.  "I am...sorry about your parents," the Wakandan king says finally when they reach the workshop door.  "I was hurt badly by the loss of my father, and it must be the same for you."

Tony looks at him, ignoring the churning in his stomach.  "I've had two months to get over myself," he says lightly.  "My old man always said Starks are made of iron."  He turns away as T'Challa enters the code to the workshop on the keypad by the door, training his eyes on the floor.  Two days isn't very long.  Tony can survive for such a short period.  But for the first time, Tony realizes that there was always a flaw in Howard's saying.  Because iron is only unbreakable until it rusts, or melts, or something too strong to ignore snaps it in half.  What would've worked better is if Howard had told Tony from the beginning that Starks are made of vibranium.  Maybe then at least Tony might have worked harder to live up to Steve's shield, if not the man himself.

Once he enters the workshop, his eyebrows pop up in appreciation.  Humming, Tony makes his way across the room.  Wakanda has some of the best tech he's seen, besides his own.  It's advanced significantly in the past few years.  "I'm impressed," he says finally.

"Many are," T'Challa replies.  The king opens his mouth, as if to say more, then seems to change his mind.  "It is nearly seven o'clock, and you appear to be...rather tired.  Barnes has told me that he is willing to wait until tomorrow to have his arm."

"Okay, sure," Tony says offhandedly.  "Go do what you do, kittycat.  I'll head up to the kitchen in a few minutes or something."

"Kittycat?"  T'Challa pauses and turns, pinning Tony down with a raised eyebrow.

"Y'know, Black Panther, panther, cat, kittycat," Tony drawls as he turns away.  "I like to make connections when I come up with better names."  He only knows T'Challa has left when the door closes a few seconds later, then he hops up onto the nearby worktable and lifts his sleeve.  He spends the rest of the minutes until seven studying his wrist, the blistering burn staring into his face like the wormhole.  He doesn't notice he's trembling until his shuddering elbow knocks a stray beaker off the table, shattering all over the floor.

 

_Fuck.  Fuckfuckfuckfuck FUCK._ Tony mentally scream-swears in his head when he strolls into the kitchen and--and realizes he's not alone.  Did T'Challa honestly think it was a good idea to have him and his-- _fuck--_ former teammates around each other?  Despite the fact that he himself is the one who managed to get pardons for each and every Avenger just so that they wouldn't be treated as fucking _terrorists_ if they ever stepped foot back in the States, he knows with a sinking feeling in his gut that they won't ever forgive him.  Thank God Barnes isn’t here right now.  Tony thinks of his mother and feels slightly sick.  He doesn’t know what he would do if Barnes were here right now, it’s already bad enough with Steve, and Wanda, and Clint…  At this rate, he doesn’t even think he can stomach Bruce’s presence, because even though the scientist has always been kind to him, he ran out and left Tony to pick up the pieces.  So now, he can’t really figure out where his relationship with Bruce is anymore.  Who knows.  Maybe to Bruce, there really never was one.

He's backing out of the kitchen, as quietly as he can, when Natasha whips around and catches sight of him.  "Stark."  Of course it's Natasha, she's the only one with those freaky senses he can never seem to understand.

The response blasts out of him before he can tell his mouth to stay silent.  "Rushman."  He feels a sick pleasure at the slight flutter of Natasha's fingers, the closest thing the assassin can get to a flinch, as she hears him voice the alias she used when undercover keeping watch on him.

Barton, standing next to the redhead, whirls around with a snarl.  "What is that douchebag doing here?  I should call T'Challa now to get you thrown out of here, or I should beat your ass myself--"

"Actually, T'Challa invited me here of his own accord," Tony says smoothly, throwing the archer a cocky grin.  "Throwing me out of here would definitely go against his wishes."

"What are you doing here?" Natasha cuts Clint off from whatever he was about to say.

"I'm here for Barnes," Tony says simply.  Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Steve visibly tense.

"Yeah, why?"  Barton glares at Tony, fingers balled into fists.  

Tony smiles although all the warning signs in his brain are going wild.  "Why should I tell you anything, Birdbrain?"

Something flickers in Clint's eyes at the mention of his nickname, but then his expression goes cold again.  "Don't use that with me.  We were never friends, you don't get to call me that."

There is something that splits in Tony's chest, a dark and wild and primal thing, full of pain and metal and hurt.  He says carefully, steadily, "Oh, no, I agree."  Then smiles all twisted and winks as his fingers rub over his sleeve.

"Just fucking tell me," Clint says, a growl low in his throat.  "I don’t have time for your shit, Stark, you’re lucky you’re not on the ground right now.”

“Well, the reason why I’m here is because of Steve’s... _friend,”_ Tony says nastily.  He looks at Clint.  “Don’t worry, you can try to come at me.  But then Barnes’ll just have to wait.”

“What do you have to do with Bucky?” Steve says finally, stepping forward.  Oh, Captain America.  The epitome of human perfection and goodliness.  Of course, there were some people who had thrown riots in favor of locking Captain America up in jail forever after the mess of the Civil War--are still throwing riots--but Tony knows the fuss will die down eventually.  That’s how it is with Captain America, he thinks bitterly.  Forgive and forget, that’s all it is.

Tony shrugs.  “You can ask him.  It’s not my responsibility to be telling you this sort of thing.”  For good measure, he strokes his goatee with a fingertip mockingly.  Can’t lose his “Stark”-y habits after all; that’s what he’s good for (the sex and the attitude).  

Steve steps closer.  “We aren’t going through this again,” he says, and then his voice softens a little.  “For what it’s worth, Tony, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” Tony says, smiling broadly.  The smile is brighter than his heart.  “But--I’m sorry too.  Sorry that Barnes killed my--killed hundreds of people, that so many died when you were chasing him all over _the god damn world.”_ If he didn’t know better, he’d think that Natasha were looking at him with something dangerously akin to pity alongside the other undefinable emotion in her eyes.

Steve stiffens.  “I didn’t--”

“Oh yes you _did,”_ Tony snaps, all of the horror and fear in his veins draining out.  “You did, Rogers.  Have you been watching TV lately?  Did you know that your merry chase through the tunnel killed _four_ people and injured nine?  Did you know that one of the people who died was a little girl on her way home to visit her father who had been honorably discharged with a missing arm _just like Barnes?”_ Out of breath, Tony sucks in air through his nose and mouth.  He suddenly feels so bone weary and exhausted.  It’s like all the life in him had been put into his rant, and now he’s just a body, nothing left to see.

Steve opens his mouth.  Closes it.  “Well, I--”

Tony smiles at him, but instead of a broad smile or a twisted one like with Clint, it’s just _tired._ “Think about your actions, Rogers.  I sure have.”  Then he reaches for the fruit basket in the middle of the counter and takes an apple, even though he hadn’t really come up for fruit in the first place.  All the Avengers are watching him--Sam with his brows furrowed, Scott who just looks confused, Natasha with an indecipherable expression.  Clint trembling in anger, Wanda’s shoulders tense and red sparking at her fingertips.  And Steve, Steve looking at him with a mixture of disappointment and surprise and like he’s never seen Tony before in his life.

As for Tony, he leaves.  No point in sticking around with another group of people who hate him.

+++

“Why didn’t you tell me that the Avengers are staying here?” Tony demands, trying to calm himself.  The apple he ate three hours earlier sits like a dead weight in his stomach, hard and heavy.  

“I--was afraid that you would decline to come if I had disclosed this,” T’Challa says carefully, but the king ducks his head as if to admit that he had been wrong.   _Why is it that Tony is always being lied to?  Doesn’t anybody think it’s important that he should know things like this?_

Tony purses his lips, cocks his head.  “Yeah, actually, I might not have.  But now, who knows, I might want to leave.”

“I apologize sincerely,” T’Challa says quietly.  “I was foolish.  I should not have done what I did.”

I’d like to hear that from Steve, Tony thinks, before reminding himself that Barnes is incredibly important to him and would Tony have done the same thing?   _Why are you defending him, Stark?_ “Well,” he says a little too loudly, “I’m not going to leave, lucky for Barnes.  But I expect honesty from now on, _King.”_

T’Challa doesn’t comment on Tony’s emphasis or how he butchers the word.  “Of course,” he says, and inclines his head slightly.  “Barnes is thankful that you have come.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony says, unsticking the words from his throat.  “Don’t forget to remind him from time to time that I’m the one who blasted the thing off in the first place though.”  He wiggles his fingers in a clear good-bye and leaves down the hall.  It seems like all he’s doing these days is leaving.  He’s not sure whether people leaving him is the better option, although, that’s already happened a lot too.  

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahh idk how to feel about this?? but watevs lol also bucky's gonna be introduced (formally, that is) to tony in the next chapter!


End file.
